Falling to Temptation
by S.N.Sterling
Summary: Rivaille – twenty-four years old and short as ever – was engaged to his highschool sweetheart, worked a well-paying job in the business department, and lived a life that was going relatively well for the most part. That was until he met Eren Jaeger - a boy who couldn't have been older than nineteen with a knack for seducing straight men. Riren/Yaoi/AU/Smut/Prostitute!Eren


The rain had already been pattering against Rivaille's shoulders for a little under half an hour when the phone in his right hand started vibrating against his palm insistently. Downcast grey eyes glanced at the screen wearily, silently staring at the bolded name on the bright screen. A picture taken ages ago of a smiling brunette mocked him above the name, and he sighed under his breath before swiping his thumb across the screen and lifting the phone to his ear.

"Rivaille! I'm sorry, I hope you're not waiting already… The expedition is going to take another month. I can't come home yet. But the good news is that we found a rare specimen! Exciting, right?" Gazing across the street blankly, Rivaille remained silent even after the voice of his fiancée died down to allow him to speak. He lifted his free hand to wipe at his forehead tiredly, slick hair sticking to his skin stubbornly, and he tilted his head back to stare up at the dark sky.

"Sounds fun," he muttered in response before the woman on the other end of the line could ask if he was still there. His eyes fell shut seconds after she started talking again, and an annoyed sigh made its way past his lips.

"I'm really sorry, Rivaille. This is the last time the deadline will be extended, I swear," the woman reassured, her words passing through Rivaille's mind meaninglessly. _Yeah, that's what you said last month, too. _

"It's fine, Hanji," Rivaille breathed, his warm breath fogging into a white mist in the cool air before dissipating with the rain. He stared up at the clouded sky with contempt, cursing whatever god of bad luck was harassing him. "You'll be paid extra, right?"

"Well actually! About that… The rest of the funds needed for the trip will be covered completely, but the scientists won't actually get paid unless we make a huge discovery in the next month. That was the condition to staying out here," Hanji explained, her voice distorted by the static fizzling through the speaker on Rivaille's phone. The man's expression contorted into something of a frown, and he pushed himself to his feet begrudgingly.

"What are the chances that you'll make the discovery?" Slipping his free hand into a deep pocket of his raincoat, Rivaille ignored the rain drenching his clothes and hair, and his feet automatically began carrying him along the sidewalk aimlessly.

"I think we'll be able to. We've got the best researchers out here that we could ask for." Rivaille hummed thoughtfully in the back of his throat, envisioning the way Hanji probably adjusted her glasses and surveyed the fellow scientists around her while she spoke. It was more than likely sunny and mid-afternoon in whatever remote country she'd been sent to three months ago, and Rivaille silently brooded over the fact he was stuck with disappointment and shitty weather.

"You'd better do your damned best out there," he responded after a moment, staring straight ahead across the empty street. He heard a laugh from the other end, and the fact that he couldn't tell whose words Hanji chuckled at vexed him in the back of his mind.

"Of course. I'll come home with a million dollars and a Nobel Prize and maybe we can finally get around to planning that wedding," Hanji enthused, her voice strangely off-putting now. Maybe it was the fact that she had the nerve to mention marriage after ditching him for three months, or maybe Rivaille was just annoyed by being let down two times in a row, but he barely even remembered he was engaged to the woman.

"Maybe," he agreed, nodding weakly to himself and glancing off to the side as a car passed by, its tires sending loose gravel and rainwater flying. The distant sound of papers shuffling and furious yelling filtered through the speaker of his phone, and Rivaille raised a brow in curiosity. "Hanji? What's going on?"

"Shit! You idiot, pay attention to what you're doing! You're going to ruin all the data!" The familiar sound of his fiancée's panicked screaming reached his ears, and Rivaille couldn't help but roll his eyes at the words. _Three, two, one… _"Sorry, Rivaille! I have to go before we lose more of our work. I swear I'll call you back in just a while, okay? Don't get killed while I'm gone!"

Before he had the chance to grunt an acknowledgement, the line died and buzzed with the obnoxious dial tone that alerted him the call was over. With a heavy sigh under his breath, he shut his phone off and shoved it into his pocket, his shoulders hunching against the rain while he walked.

Things like this began happening on a frequent basis ever since the day Rivaille proposed to his high school sweetheart, and he swore it wasn't just some coincidence. Someone had it out for him, and thrusting loneliness, frustration, and jealousy upon his being was apparently their way of finding entertainment. He knew that Hanji would be just as busy as he was, but when he originally planned to spend his life with her, he hadn't realized that spending _most _of his life alone would be included in the package.

Expeditions in remote desert countries or humid tropical forests and overseas business trips were a common thing, and Rivaille had grown sick of being left for months at a time two years into his engagement. His promise of marriage with Hanji was approaching its third year now, but he wasn't so sure he'd be able to handle being married to a partner that was never there. He might as well marry the empty left side of his bed in that case.

With a sigh and shake of his head, Rivaille lifted a hand to run it through his soaked hair tiredly, his skin prickling and becoming chilled thanks to the rain. The stress of work and being less important than a bunch of damn bacteria ate away at his mind, and he slowly began to entertain the idea of falling to the temptation of alcohol for the first time in ages.

He was already near downtown Sina, and the nearest bar was probably only fifteen minutes away. Rivaille's lips pressed together in a thin line when he thought about it, and with his resolve already being halfway broken, it didn't take much convincing from the devil on his left shoulder to make him turn on his heel towards downtown.

He was soaked and chilled to the bone anywhere his raincoat didn't cover, but he didn't pay it much mind while he walked, already silently deciding on how inebriated he was willing to get. There was no need to hold back while Hanji was gone, and the only problem that occurred to his frustrated mind was the issue of getting home. Surely he could get a taxi back if worse came to worst, but the question then would be if he'd be able to remember his own address.

With a shake of his head – mostly to get the wet hair away from his eyes – Rivaille reached into his back pocket, feeling around for his wallet and grasping the leathery case with ease. He pulled it out of his pocket and fiddled with it for a second before checking how much money he was carrying, thankful that he had decided to grab extra cash for a fancy restaurant before he left earlier. Whatever money was meant to be spent on Hanji was going to be wasted on expensive alcohol, and Rivaille couldn't bring himself to find anything wrong with that fact.

Putting his wallet back in his pocket, Rivaille glanced around the empty street and enjoyed the quiet atmosphere while it lasted. Even with the rain pattering against the ground noisily, he knew that as soon as he turned the corner leading to downtown Sina's bar district, the street would be flooded with loud music and drunkenly chattering civilians.

His speculation was proven correct after a while of walking once he crossed several streets and followed a path he knew by heart, and he paused for a brief second once he found himself joining the Friday night crowd. It seemed that the rain had died down to a light mist at this point, and Rivaille silently thanked that fact. He lifted a hand to run it through his hair before glancing around the area with an apathetic expression, his eyes scanning over the various bars and clubs scattered along the street.

When he noticed a new name on a strange sign he didn't recognize from his previous outings, Rivaille raised a brow thoughtfully and headed towards the large brick building on the street corner. Luminescent letters in bold print spelled out the name 'Legionette' and a low hum resonated in the back of Rivaille's throat while his feet carried him towards the unfamiliar club.

The entirety of the building seemed to be made out of brick aside from the iron-casted main door, and Rivaille remembered the few times he'd seen the place before. There had never been a sign to go with it or a crowd of people mingling outside, however, and he was mildly intrigued to know what the interior looked like now that it was open to the public.

With a roll of his shoulders, the man walked up the few steps to the door and dug his wallet from his back pocket to flash his ID to the bouncer absentmindedly. He ignored the slight raise of eyebrows when the man compared his appearance to his age and promptly flipped his wallet closed in response. Sometimes he cursed the fact he was so short – scratch that, he _always _cursed his small stature – but people only made it worse with blatant actions that ticked him off.

Once the bouncer stepped out of his way, Rivaille gave a short nod to the man and pushed the heavy iron door open just to be assaulted with blaring music and flashy strobe lights zigzagging across the walls and floor immediately. His eyes squinted reflexively due to the hazy miasma that filled the club, and he could feel the bass of the music pounding in the back of his skull. Half of his conscience said that he should turn around and leave, but he was more convinced by the nagging promise of letting loose posed by the devil on his left.

With a confident adjustment of his posture, Rivaille stepped inside the obnoxiously loud club and let the door fall shut behind him. Grey eyes searched through the haze and multicolored lights to find a rather promising bar, and his feet set to work carrying him across the hardwood flooring with a leisurely stride. His hands automatically covered his pockets containing valuable items, and he cast careful glances at the throngs of people around him.

The overwhelming presence of testosterone in the building made his mind almost as foggy as the air, and the scent of cologne, sweat, and alcohol was all that his senses could seem to register. Sweaty bodies were grinding together on the dance floor to his left, women were ogling over pairs of men to his right, and Rivaille took little note of the scantily clad young men winking at and giggling girlishly with other patrons.

He shook his head to clear up a bit of the metaphorical fog clouding his mind and finished making his way over to the bar before situating himself on one of the unoccupied stools. His eyes lingered over the fancy display of various alcoholic bases and ice coolers before finding the young bartender preparing a drink for another customer. The man's proper appearance impressed Rivaille greatly, and he briefly wondered if anyone from the business department had visited this place yet.

Olive green eyes glanced over towards Rivaille, and a nervous smile was flashed in his direction to which he responded to with a short nod of his head. Eye contact was a key necessity when working at and visiting clubs and lounges in his opinion, and Rivaille sat back to shrug off his wet raincoat while he waited. His white dress shirt still clung to his skin in an irritating way, and his hair was probably curling obnoxiously as it dried in the heat of the club, but he tried not to pay either much mind.

With a sigh, Rivaille draped the soaked coat over his lap and leaned forward on the counter of the bar, his eyes absently reading over a few labels on the bottles of alcohol nearest to him. His mind briefly went back to Hanji and how she had hung up on him so suddenly, and a distasteful frown crossed his lips as he shifted and dug his phone out of his pocket. _I'll call you back in just a while, okay? _

Shaking the woman's words from his mind, Rivaille looked down at the screen of his phone absentmindedly with one finger poised over the power button. He debated turning the damn thing off or not, and after a moment of thought, he caved and held the button down until his phone shut off and went to a blank screen. He adjusted his position on the stool momentarily and slid the device back into his pocket before looking up when a new presence was in front of him.

The bartender had made his way over to Rivaille with that awkward smile of his, and the man cursed the fact he was just now realizing how _tall _this employee was. "Welcome to Legionette – I'm Bertholdt," the bartender stated in introduction, and Rivaille watched him with mild interest. "Have anything in mind?"

"I'll start with a Long Island Iced Tea," Rivaille immediately answered, grey eyes showing his obvious disinterest with conversing with the man in front of him. He could tell that his tone was more off-putting than usual by the way the man stared at him for a second before nodding in understanding and rushing off to mix the drink, but he didn't care all too much. Letting loose meant getting drunk off his ass – not making new friends.

Shifting to turn around on his stool, Rivaille leaned back against the polished mahogany counter and let his eyes roam over the club once more. It was just like any other dance club he'd been to albeit newer and cleaner, and the loud music was still as headache-inducing as ever. Now that he was focusing on observing, however, Rivaille began to notice the strange lack of women within the building. It wasn't like it was completely devoid of women, but for each girl, there were two men making out in front of her.

A slight frown tugged at Rivaille's lips at the thought, and he shook his head before turning around again. He didn't have anything against gay guys – especially not at a place where sexuality was the last thing on someone's mind – but he just _wasn't _gay and felt no need to continue watching the acts displayed by other men.

A few minutes of waiting passed by once he'd faced the bar again, and Rivaille's fingers tapped against the countertop abstractedly before a glass was placed in front of him with a soft _clink _against the hardwood. The bartender smiled to him politely and held out a hand expectantly, the act confusing Rivaille at first before realization dawned on his hazy mind and he shifted to pull his wallet from his pocket.

He handed over the money he owed with an apathetic expression before reaching for his glass and raising it to his lips. The horribly nostalgic and familiar taste of alcohol hit his tongue, and Rivaille nearly groaned thanks to how long it had been since he felt the burn of alcohol plaguing the back of his throat. He didn't even pay attention to the fact he was carelessly tilting the glass higher and higher automatically until the ice hit his teeth and he blinked in confusion.

_Well shit. _Eagerness and desperate longing had overtaken his mind for a short duration, and when he finally allowed himself to register reality again, his drink was more than half empty. _I've seriously been denied alcohol far too long,_ he thought absentmindedly, sighing and placing his glass back on the counter. When he moved to turn towards the rest of the club again, Rivaille was stopped by green eyes staring directly at him and the presence of a new person leaning against the bar to his left.

"I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new?" Raising an eyebrow slightly at the question, Rivaille took in the appearance of the boy beside him, his brow furrowing when he noticed the severe lack of clothing covering the male. A nearly translucent white v-neck clung to his torso, and the black shorts he wore barely covered a third of his thighs which were conveniently spread enough to show off how tightly the shorts hugged his crotch.

Rivaille's eyes jerked away from the sight nearly immediately to focus on the boy's face again, his own expression mirroring the intense apathy he felt towards his current situation. His shoulders rose and fell in a neutral shrug, and the boy beside him sighed before leaning forward slightly.

"Come on, don't be like that. You came here to have fun, didn't you?" Half-lidded green eyes watched him carefully from behind brown bangs, and Rivaille didn't bother hiding the frown that tugged at his lips as he reached for his half-empty glass.

"If you're asking me if I came here to have sex with some brat who probably isn't even legal, then my answer is no," he deadpanned without second thoughts, his attention returning to the glass in his hand before downing half of what remained. Rivaille could feel the amused gaze boring into the side of his face, and he glanced at the brunet suspiciously. "What?"

"You think I'm not legal? That's the first time someone's been concerned about _that_. For your information, Mr. Pole-Up-His-Ass, I'm perfectly legal just like everyone else here," the younger male mused, his weight shifting so that he could lean against the bar counter while keeping a close eye on Rivaille. With a sigh, the businessman rolled his eyes to look in the opposite direction, hoping that the brat would leave him alone if he ignored him.

Things didn't work out as planned, however, and Rivaille was left blinking in surprise when tan fingers reached out to brush along his jaw line lightly. "If you're going to ignore me, at least answer my question first," the boy sighed, catching Rivaille's attention once more. He frowned at the words and lifted a hand to swat at the brunet's wrist irritably.

"What question?" he retorted, his fingers tightening around the near-empty glass of alcohol in his right hand.

"Didn't you come here to have fun?" the brunet reiterated, and Rivaille groaned audibly in irritation. He scooted away from the boy as much as his stool would allow and pegged the brunet with a disinterested scowl.

"I already said I wasn't here for sex. I'm engaged to an amazing woman already, so get lost." A glint of something Rivaille couldn't identify passed through green eyes, and this – this _kid _– smirked devilishly before leaning in close enough to invade Rivaille's personal space. Nimble fingers placed themselves on his thigh, and he was about to push the brunet away before tensing when a taunting voice interrupted his plan of action.

"Where's this amazing woman you're engaged to? Surely she doesn't approve of you drinking alone. And I doubt she'd let you just wander into a gay whorehouse in the middle of the night, too," the boy pointed out, his words striking Rivaille into a temporary paralysis. A specific emphasis on _gay whorehouse _filtered through his mind, and suddenly several things clicked into place – the severe lack of women, the men sucking face on the dance floor, _the boy hitting on him_.

"She's out of town," Rivaille bit out, moving to push the brunet's hands off but being interrupted when the boy's fingers sneakily intertwined with his instead. He tried to pull his hand back with a look of disgust crossing his features, but the young male in front of him only held his hand tightly and brought it to his lips, his warm breath caressing the chilled skin gently.

"Then you're free to have fun. What she doesn't know won't kill her." Grey eyes widened at the words before Rivaille jerked his hand away roughly and turned away from the boy to finish off his drink, his glass hitting the counter loudly afterwards. He attracted the attention of the bartender on accident, but he knew those olive green eyes looked to the boy beside him before focusing on the glass he slammed against the counter.

"What the hell are you even saying? The fact that I'm engaged doesn't change," Rivaille finally retorted, glaring at the brunet who watched him with interested emerald eyes.

"Where's your proof?" Blinking slightly when that smooth, young voice met his ears again, Rivaille thought over the question rapidly just to come to the conclusion that he couldn't prove his engagement. Hanji wore the ring he proposed with – or he thought she did – but he had no proof for himself. The man mentally cursed this brat's wit and sighed heavily in response.

"I don't need proof to say I'm engaged. I just wanted a drink. You're not getting anything else out of me. Find someone else, you goddamn brat." Turning away from the brunet once again, Rivaille reached for his glass just to realize that the reason he'd slammed it against the counter a moment ago was due to its lack of alcohol. A dissatisfied frown tugged the corner of his lips, and he motioned for the bartender irritably.

"Come on… Your fiancée won't mind. She's out of town, right? I'll bet that she's already screwing another guy behind your back." Rivaille tensed when warm breath caressed the shell of his ear, his mind sputtering uselessly to find a way to respond. He was stopped by the presence of a hand on his upper thigh again and thin fingers brushing against the back of his neck, eliciting a slight shiver.

Jerking away from the younger male abruptly, Rivaille nearly fell off his stool while glaring at the smirking brunet. "I already fucking said I just wanted a drink. This is sexual harassment, dumbass," he bit out venomously, grey eyes narrowing threateningly. The boy beside him hummed softly in the back of his throat before sighing and slumping his shoulders in defeat.

"You're no fun. You could've at least _pretended _to be nice," the brunet groaned before pushing himself up onto his feet, and Rivaille noticed just how tall the kid seemed to be when he glanced up at him absently. At least it seemed like he'd be able to have another drink in peace – until soft lips pressed against the shell of his ear, and a warm tongue teased the flesh slowly. "If you change your mind, come find me."

Rivaille moved away from the boy in record time as soon as the last syllable left his lips, and he glared heatedly even as the brunet sauntered off towards the crowd, his form distorting in the heavy miasma clouding the air. A sickened expression crossed his features, and he turned back towards the bar with a heavy groan, his hand moving to press against his forehead wearily.

He didn't mind gay people, he really fucking didn't, but when brats that couldn't be older than nineteen started harassing him, he couldn't help but detest them in a way. Then again, he apparently _had _wandered his way into a gay _whorehouse _on accident and judging by the kid's appearance, he'd been one of the prostitutes working here. So technically, he was only trying to do his job – but even then, enough was enough.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his mind, Rivaille looked up at the bartender when he returned. Olive eyes looked down at him sympathetically, but he ignored the expression and ordered another drink with a huff under his breath. Maybe if he worked fast enough, he'd be able to down another drink and get out before that prostitute showed up again.

But of course, lady luck was far from on his side tonight, and half an hour later, Rivaille's forehead was plastered against the hard surface of the bar counter. His fingers were wrapped tightly around a new empty glass – either the fourth or fifth at this point – and his mind was in a state of confusion that he couldn't remember it ever being in before. The alcohol level of his drinks had risen generously as he went, and the overload of testosterone and flashing lights hadn't helped his senses in the slightest.

His breathing was a bit staggered with his nose pressed against the mahogany surface, and he sighed heavily, his breath fogging against the wood. Getting home was one of the few thoughts that managed to make some sort of sense to his mind, and Rivaille spent another minute or two with his forehead against the counter before forcing himself up into a sitting position. His fingers moved to rub his temples exhaustedly, and he waited for his vision to clear up a little.

He could sense the nervous glance the bartender sent towards him, and he waved the man off dismissively before his hand fell back to the counter weakly. He had enough control over his mind to keep himself upright, and he shifted to turn around on his stool again just to be met with smirking green eyes. An automatic frown fixed itself over his lips, and Rivaille looked up at the brunet trapping him against the counter. _When did he even get here?_

"What?" he questioned flatly, trying to focus on the sinful eyes that were watching him closely.

"You're shitfaced, aren't you?" the brunet questioned with a small lilt to his voice, and Rivaille stared up at him blankly. _What the hell kind of question is that supposed to be?_

"I'm not," Rivaille responded with a slight slur, the edge of the bar counter behind him digging into his lower back. Foggy grey eyes stared up at shining green defiantly, and Rivaille moved his elbows to the counter so that he could lean back that much more and avoid the younger male's warm breath that threatened to brush against his face.

A low hum resonated in the back of the brunet's throat that Rivaille couldn't hear over the loud bass penetrating through his skull, and daring fingers pressed against his chest before traveling up to his shoulders and behind his head. Frowning slightly at the actions, Rivaille lifted a hand to the younger male's shoulder and pushed at it weakly. _Why doesn't he understand what 'no' means?_

"Already said I don't want sex," Rivaille groaned in annoyance, pushing against the boy's shoulder a little bit harder. Green eyes flickered with an unknown emotion, and Rivaille was caught off guard when warm lips were suddenly ghosting along his jaw line.

"I never said I wanted sex. I was just going to ask for a nice conversation. But since sex is the first thing on _your _mind, I guess we could do that, too," the brunet purred, his voice dropping sinfully low and nearly eliciting an aroused groan from Rivaille. Grey eyes narrowed at the words, and he sent a sidelong scowl towards the cunning little shit before leaning away from him.

"I'm _straight_," he bit out, using most of his focus to understand what this boy was saying to him. The last thing he needed to do was walk right into a trap – though something told him he was already caught in the brunet's web, and it was only a matter of time before he was genuinely fucked over.

"You aren't tonight." Blinking and furrowing his brow because of the words, Rivaille opened his mouth to ask what the boy meant, but an audacious tongue was thrust into his mouth before he could utter the first syllable. Grey eyes went wide, and Rivaille pushed at the brunet's shoulder roughly – or what he wanted to _believe_ was roughly. The action was futile, however, and the boy's skilled tongue worked through his mouth with a practiced precision.

Already hosting a weak resolve from the alcohol pounding through his blood, Rivaille only protested the kiss for another short moment before caving and moving to return it, his mouth moving against the brunet's sloppily. Tongues tangled together, and lips crushed against one another while fingers threaded through thick hair firmly. Rivaille let instinct rule over reason, and he had to admit that despite the brunet's constant harassment, he at least provided adequate service afterwards.

The younger male was the first to pull away from the kiss, his eyes half-lidded and gazing at Rivaille intently before his hands found the man's wrists and stepped back to pull him away from the stool. "I'm Eren," he quickly introduced between short gasps, and Rivaille balanced himself on his feet while the brunet attempted to tug him off towards the back of the club.

Whether he allowed himself to follow Eren because of the influence of alcohol, the sudden need for physical contact he hadn't felt in months, or the sheer fact that he couldn't be bothered to give a fuck anymore, Rivaille didn't care. He wasn't even concerned about his own sexuality or the fact Eren was a _man _anymore, and the abrupt change would've worried him had it been any other day of the week.

"Rivaille – I'm Rivaille," he grunted as he was led to the back, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He did his best to stay upright and keep up with Eren's rushed paced, cursing the fact the brat was several inches taller than him. The cloudy haze blocking out most of his coherent thoughts was getting annoying at this point, and he was more than thankful when his feet came to a stop outside a row of doors he hadn't noticed at first.

"One second," Eren mumbled under his breath, his fingers releasing Rivaille's wrists to fumble with a set of keys hooked through one of the tiny belt loops on his shorts. A bemused expression crossed Rivaille's features while he waited, and he took the extra time to sort out his muddled mind. _Hanji won't know. Hanji won't care. Hanji hasn't been here for three months. Hanji…probably…went to another man by now._

Grey eyes narrowing in frustration at his own thoughts, Rivaille suddenly reached for the collar of Eren's shirt, dragging the brunet down to lock their lips together again firmly. He knew green eyes were staring at him in shock, but he didn't give a shit and only moved his free hand to turn the keys in the lock of the door while forcing his tongue into Eren's mouth. A low moan met his ears, and tan fingers tangled through his hair as he kicked the door open with the side of his foot.

The doorknob hit the wall with a dull _clunk, _and Rivaille turned to walk backwards, somehow miraculously keeping his balance while he dragged Eren into the room with him, keeping their mouths connected at all times. He barely left enough time for the younger male to fumble with getting the door shut, insistently tugging him towards the prepared bed in the middle of the room, and his mouth moved to the boy's throat when Eren broke away to regain his breath.

"H-hah, R-Rivaille," the brunet groaned, his hands trailing down over Rivaille's back while the man made quick work of marking his neck with his tongue and teeth. They staggered their way over to the bed, and Eren's fingers wound around to the front of Rivaille's torso, nimbly popping buttons loose as his mouth was captured again by the shorter man's.

Hands made their way to Eren's hips, and Rivaille turned on his heel at the last second to shove the brunet down onto the bed while the boy's fingers hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. His tongue teased the brunet's, and their lips moved together messily, saliva connecting their mouths as he climbed on top of the younger male.

Only one thought remained in Rivaille's mind while he dominated Eren's mouth and elicited shameless moans from the boy beneath him, but it was enough to keep him convinced that he could do this – _Hanji probably moved on to another man. _The thought angered whatever rational bit of his mind he had left, and the devil that had been guiding him all night convinced him that this kid – this _whore _– was the perfect outlet for his frustration.

Jolting out of his aggravated thoughts when little sparks of pleasure passed through his veins thanks to Eren's fingers tweaking and rolling his nipples, Rivaille growled in the back of his throat and parted his mouth from Eren's in favor of the smooth flesh of his neck. His tongue teased the salty, sweaty skin before his teeth sunk into the tanned flesh in a way that made Eren moan his name loudly, and his hands slid beneath the prostitute's shirt to explore his torso thoroughly.

He knew it was all fake – the moans were exaggerated, and Eren was only half as pleased as he seemed – but that small fact didn't stop Rivaille from dragging his teeth down along the sensitive skin of the boy's neck while pushing his shirt up as far as he could for now. He broke away from the brunet to sit up after a moment and roughly jerked his shirt up over his head, throwing the translucent fabric somewhere within the room.

Lust-hazed green eyes stared up at him in a way that said _hurry the fuck up_, and Rivaille set to work shrugging off his own shirt that Eren had unbuttoned for him. His mind briefly reflected back to the fact he had a coat on when he walked into the whorehouse, and now it was missing. _Shit. _If he was lucky – which he probably wouldn't be – it would still be wherever it fell off his lap near his stool once he was finished with Eren.

Ignoring the missing coat for now, Rivaille focused on tossing his shirt to the side, his thought processes being completely shattered when Eren suddenly rolled his hips up against the older man's. Biting back a groan and the horrified mortification that surfaced when he realized he was _already _hard from messing around with this brunet, Rivaille shifted to grind his hips down against Eren's roughly while tanned fingers clasped together behind his neck.

"S-shit! Nngh, Rivaille…" Eren moaned lustily, his voice deceivingly natural to Rivaille's ears. Green eyes were squeezed shut, and the brunet's face was already flushed as their hips moved together pleasurably. Groans fell from Rivaille's lips as the satisfaction achieved through friction sent tremors of pleasure through his veins, and his hands moved to the bed for support that he was finding himself desperately needing.

Grey eyes darkened by desire watched Eren's face closely, and Rivaille pushed his hips down against the brunet's one last time before reluctantly moving back to sit on the boy's thighs. Green eyes popped open to stare at him in confusion, but Eren's head fell back against the bed a second later when Rivaille palmed his erection firmly.

Pale fingers worked over the dark fabric of the younger male's shorts, and Eren despised the fact he couldn't spread his legs to feel _more _of the delicious pressure Rivaille's hand provided. His hands fell to the bed uselessly, gripping the fresh sheets tightly while Rivaille teased him to hell and back, his breathing becoming labored along the way.

"R-Rivaille," Eren bit out between his moaning and panting, casting a glance towards the man who watched him with a drunken flush across his cheeks. A black eyebrow rose in question, and Eren tried shifting his legs beneath the man's weight to no avail.

Rivaille caught onto what the brunet wanted, however, and he contemplated the unspoken request for a short moment before removing his hand from between Eren's legs and shifting to sit up on his knees. The action hadn't been a smart decision, though, and Rivaille didn't even have the time to figure out how he'd been flipped over by time he registered the fact Eren was on top of him and straddling his hips.

Confused, wide grey eyes stared up at the smirking brunet, and before he could question what the hell this brat thought he was doing, lips were once again smothering his with a firm pressure. A low groan resonated in the back of his throat when Eren's tongue met his, and he was vaguely aware of the dexterous fingers unbuckling his belt and slowly dragging the zipper of his pants down.

"S-shit," Rivaille cursed against Eren's mouth, his hips bucking up towards the minimal friction that was applied to his crotch as the zipper moved, his fingers moving to thread through dark brown hair tightly. He used his grip on the back of the brunet's head to crush their lips together harder, teeth and tongues clashing together haphazardly, and Eren moaned into the kiss heatedly.

Rivaille's pants were tugged down over his hips along with his underwear while his lips moved against Eren's, the saliva mingling between their mouths making the kiss that much slicker and disorganized. A low hiss was audible when the cool air hit his throbbing erection, and Rivaille bit at Eren's lips in response as his pants were pulled down to his knees.

The brunet had to force his head back from the older man's after a moment though, his labored breathing causing him to pant and stare down at Rivaille with a flushed expression. His chest rose and fell with the effort of regaining his breath, and his eyes raked over the other man's body before landing on his exposed cock. Eren's breath hitched slightly, and he licked his drying lips as his fingers moved to grasp the length firmly, eliciting a surprised cry from Rivaille's lips.

"F-fuck!" Looking up at Eren in shock, Rivaille's stunned expression soon morphed into one of pleasure as the brunet's fingers grasped his cock tightly, pumping the shaft deliberately slowly. His hands fell to the bed to grasp the wrinkled sheets tightly, and his hips thrust up towards Eren's touch roughly. "G-goddamn, Eren," Rivaille breathed, his senses kicking into full overdrive.

A breathy laugh fell from the prostitute's lips as he pumped the cock in his hands leisurely, teasing Rivaille into a harder state, and he bent down to run his tongue along the swollen head with a playful glint in his eyes. Rivaille's hips jerked at the action, and the man let out a short, surprised cry before Eren tilted his head and ran his tongue up the length of the man's arousal, sucking on the tip pleasurably.

"N-nngh, shit!" Rivaille gasped, darkened grey eyes wide as his cock was slowly covered by the overwhelming heat of Eren's tongue and mouth. He was about to move one hand to grasp the brunet's hair again and force his mouth around his cock, but before he could even untangle the sheets from between his fingers, Eren was moving to sit up on his knees.

The idea of flipping the prostitute over like had been done to him filtered into Rivaille's mind, but he decided against it when his focus tuned in on the errant hands traveling down Eren's torso. The brunet was arching against his own touch, his fingers tweaking his nipples, and his hips grinding down against Rivaille's exposed erection to elicit throaty moans from both participants.

Grey eyes were half-lidded with amusement and lust while Eren's hands moved down over his body to his shorts, his skilled fingers undoing the button and tugging down on the tight fabric with ease. The article of clothing slid halfway down his thighs, and Rivaille wasn't surprised at all by the lack of underwear. His eyes zeroed in on Eren' own arousal, absently wondering what the brat had really gotten the brunet to the state he was in.

His gaze flickered up again, however, when the younger male's hand traveled to his mouth, his tongue peeking out between his lips to run between his index and middle fingers sensually. Rivaille's breath hitched at the sight, and he gasped in surprise when Eren's hips suddenly moved against his again, his hands going to grasp the boy's thighs tightly.

"Having fun yet?" the brunet questioned in a sly, sultry tone that _shouldn't _have been as arousing as it was while his tongue worked over his own fingers, slicking them thoroughly. Rivaille only groaned in response and watched as Eren's fingers disappeared between his lips, the brunet's expression purposely erotic as green eyes gazed down at him lustily.

Eren's display didn't last much longer, however, and he moved his free hand to the bed by Rivaille's right side, his body bridging and arching above the older man as his fingers moved along his own side to his ass. Green eyes stared down at Rivaille, and grey stared right back, blind to everything but the raw lust reflected in Eren's eyes as he carefully slid a slick finger inside himself with a little wince.

Rivaille watched Eren's expressions as the brunet worked a second finger into himself, probably already more than used to the intrusion. The pain that flittered across his features never lasted long, and it was replaced with wanton expressions that mirrored the pleasure he was giving himself. The older man swallowed thickly when Eren released a drawn-out moan, his fingers gripping the mattress tightly beside Rivaille.

"Nngh, ignoring me…hah, a-again?" Eren questioned with a little laugh that broke into a moan, his voice sending flickers of arousal straight to Rivaille's groin. The older man only rolled his eyes and thrust his hips up against Eren's roughly in response, effectively forcing the brunet to thrust his fingers deeper inside himself with a broken cry.

"Get on with it," Rivaille bit out, his voice husky and slurred by lust and alcohol. Eren gave a slight nod of his head in response before recomposing himself and pumping his fingers in and out of his body fluidly, soft moans escaping his lips meanwhile. He didn't let the process drag on too long though, and once he deemed himself ready, the brunet removed his fingers and sat back slightly before nodding towards the small table beside the bed.

Rivaille frowned slightly at first because of the action before turning his head and spotting what Eren had motioned for him to get. He almost – _almost _– wanted to roll his eyes when he saw the condoms, but he grabbed them anyways along with the lube before handing them over out of impatience. He probably should've been grateful one of them remembered condoms – he was doing this with a _prostitute _who may or may not have been _clean _after all – but his intoxicated mind was far from rational thought.

Being dragged back into reality when the ripping of aluminum met his ears, Rivaille looked up at Eren blindly before groaning when he felt the slippery film of the condom slide over his cock with the brunet's warm fingers right behind. His voice blended into a low moan as the younger male popped the cap of the lube, and poured a generous amount in his hand, his bottom lip getting caught between his teeth while he looked down at Rivaille.

The expression made him groan audibly, and Rivaille's head fell back against the bed once Eren grasped his erection tightly and spread the lubricant over the condom thoroughly. His hips jerked up into the touch, and Eren licked his lips slightly before tossing the bottle to the side of the bed. He positioned himself over Rivaille's cock afterwards, one hand positioning the man's length at his entrance and eliciting moans of anticipation from both participants.

Without waiting, Eren forced himself down on Rivaille's cock, crying out loudly and reaching out to grasp onto the man's shoulders tightly. His breathing was ragged within seconds, and Rivaille cursed as his entire length was encased in the tight heat while his fingers dug into Eren's hips tightly. A tense pause lasted between them for a short moment before the brunet adjusted and rocked his hips carefully, and the sounds of heavy breathing and soft moans filled the air.

After raising and lowering himself on Rivaille's cock several times to get accustomed to the intrusion as he usually did, Eren developed a rhythm that kept him rolling his hips and forcing Rivaille to thrust up to meet him halfway. Moans and grunts varied in volume as the pace increased bit by bit, and Eren's fingers dug into Rivaille's shoulders tightly, his green eyes staring down at the older man lustily.

The brunet's hips moved down against Rivaille's cock in a way that brought the man's length deeper with each thrust, and his voice was wanton with desire. Rivaille cursed and grunted as he thrust up into the body above him, only adding to the volume of Eren's moans as the brunet rode his erection. His throat felt like it was constricting with the effort of breathing and groaning at the same time, and Rivaille felt an entirely new sense of dizziness begin to overcome his senses.

The alcohol and adrenaline flooding through his veins fueled his desire for the contact he was sharing with Eren right now, and his body worked on its own, getting ahead of his mind as his thrusts met the boy's hips halfway. Loud cries filled the hot air of the room, and Eren's hips bore down against Rivaille hard enough to make his back arch and his voice to crack in the middle of a moan.

"A-ah! F-fuck, Rivaille!" Eren gasped, his fingers digging into the flesh of the man's shoulders while he continued to move, his thighs beginning to ache with a dull throb from the effort he was putting into each of his movements. Grunts and groans fell from the lips of the man below him, and the brunet took pride in the fact he was able to make a _straight _man moan shamelessly.

"S-shit…nngh…" Rivaille groaned under his breath, his hair sticking to his forehead once again as sweat dampened his skin, and his fingers grasped Eren's hips tightly. He blamed his recently forced abstinence for the already-growing heat in his abdomen, and his breath came in short pants while his mind fizzled uselessly.

The raw pleasure slamming through him in harsh tremors forced his hips to thrust up roughly as Eren moved down, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He swallowed back a loud moan that threatened to escape when Eren picked up the pace slightly, but when the brunet suddenly tensed and cried out, Rivaille couldn't help the loud, "Fuck!" that escaped when his cock was squeezed with delicious pressure inside the boy.

"G-goddamn…R-Rivaille, f-fuck," Eren moaned loudly, his voice hoarse as his hips rolled and moved to make Rivaille thrust into the same spot again, eliciting another keen cry from the brunet. _His prostate probably, _Rivaille thought absentmindedly, swallowing thickly in an attempt to soothe his dry throat and bringing Eren's hips down against his again harshly.

With Rivaille's cock slamming directly into the brunet's prostate and the tight constriction that it caused, neither man was confident he could last much longer. Just as the pain in his muscles started to get close to unbearable, Eren forced himself down roughly so that the head of Rivaille's erection nailed his prostate directly, and his head fell back, his mouth agape as he cried out and came with a harsh shudder.

His body shook with the intense release, and the sheer heat and tension surrounding Rivaille's cock thanks to the boy's orgasm sent him over the edge seconds later, his own voice loud in the quieting room. His vision was overtaken by the blinding white of the hot pleasure that rattled his senses, and his body tensed before slowly before relaxing against the mattress.

Exhaustion set in faster than he would've liked, and the very last thing that came to mind before Rivaille's head hit the mattress and his consciousness faded was the clear image of Hanji smiling and laughing excitedly the second he got down on one knee and pulled a ring box from his pocket on the day he proposed.

_I fucked a prostitute while I'm engaged. What the hell have I fucking done?_


End file.
